


Coffee on Danny Street

by Traykor



Category: Doom Patrol
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-23
Updated: 2010-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-13 23:57:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traykor/pseuds/Traykor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rebis meets an odd fellow in an odd coffee shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee on Danny Street

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlaraJRogers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlaraJRogers/gifts).



> This is set sometime after the end of Grant Morrison's run as writer, but before the reappearance of any of them from Danny World.

The nicest thing about the coffee shops on Danny World was that no matter how odd one looked, one could sit with friends and have a nice cup of coffee without being stared at. There were no sideways glances, no parents pulling kids closer, no kids with pointing fingers. Everyone on Danny World is used to the oddness of the inhabitants, even if outwardly normal in appearance. Many have their own odd appearance.  
It’s why they’re here, after all.  
Danny World is not the place for those who can find one in other worlds.  
So Danny World was a really nice place to have a cup of coffee.  
Even if one couldn’t really have coffee because one was made entirely of metal.  
Or didn’t much need to as one was partly made up of an energy being. The bandages would stain anyway. Coffee is so hard to get out of things, even for the Negative Spirit.  
Jane, however, could eat and drink coffee just fine, and said that the point of coffee shops was never coffee, it was talking or people watching or just being with friends.  
“I think coffee is the point of coffee shops or they would call them something else.” Cliff had protested. Jane had told him not to be a dick.  
Rebis had sat quietly and enjoyed their affectionate bickering.  
Today Rebis was alone, occupying a corner of the shop watching the people come and go while waiting for Cliff and Jane. There was plenty to watch. People of all colors came in, including colors far more rare than the ones most humans would think of, such as blue and green. Someone had two heads, which argued with each other over how much each should get to eat. Another patron shimmered with skin like glass, her feet making a soft tinkle as she walked. Danny had made good on his promise to welcome any who found no place elsewhere. Misfits like the remaining Doom Patrol members fit right in.  
The steam from the coffee cups at the table next to him coalesces into words.  
“Jane saw something in a shop she wanted to look at. They’ll be along soon.”  
“Thank you Danny” Danny was good about passing messages along. Danny World did have a mostly functional telecom system, but most everyone found it easier to have Danny pass along short messages of the ‘running late’ kind.  
Every once in a while Rebis ponders returning to the world they left behind, to the life of the superhero, full of danger and reckless adventure.  
Someday  
Perhaps  
Definitely  
Not Today  
When they got bored enough. Which would be someday, certainly.  
Just not today.  
As Rebis waited, a blond man, rugged looking and in a stereotypical safari outfit entered the shop. He stood out by how normal he looked. The man scanned the room and spotted Rebis, heading toward him.  
Rebis tensed as the man approached, reflexes and senses ingrained from many battles sending them into high alert.  
“Good day. May I join you?” He was smiling pleasantly.  
Ah, well, perhaps there would finally be some excitement even here. They nod, slightly, at one of the other chairs, and he settles himself into it.  
“My name is Arthur Cravan. Have you heard of me?”  
“No”  
“Ah, sadly I’ve come to expect that. Once upon a time I was an art critic, poet, writer, magazine editor, boxer, political provoker and a leader of the Dada movement. History has altogether conspired to forget me.”  
At the word ‘Dada’ Rebis sprang up and into a defensive pose. The Brotherhood had caused more than enough trouble for them. They were enjoying this world of respite, and were fully reading to tear apart anyone who might disrupt it.  
“Calm down good fellow. I’m not here as an enemy. Nor as a friend, to be honest, but there’s no reason to put the fists up yet. Or perhaps at all.”  
“Then why are you here?  
“For a chat, for a look, for a moment, for a provocation, for an explanation, for confusion, for suggestions, for none of the above and all of them at once.”  
“Now we know you’re one of them, as that made no sense.”  
“I am and am not, if the ‘them’ you refer to is Mr. Nobody’s little group. Though they are involved with me of course, they couldn’t help but be. They pay attention to me as little as possible and as much as they can and I do the same to them, as properly befits artists and their critics.”  
“Will you be getting to that explanation anytime soon?” Rebis decided to stay standing, just in case. No use letting one’s guard down, not when dealing with the sorts who change direction and bring chaos in an instant.  
“Next time, read an art critic. A little criticism does an artist good. Or destroys them completely. Either way, it will help. Now, I have a question for you.” The man smiled pleasantly.  
“You may as well ask it.”  
“Did you know you are part of Dada?”  
“Now you’re just being insulting”  
“Why do you think they target you and your friends? You are all Dadaists. By your very existences and inherent natures. This entire world is, which is how I come to be here. You are absurdities and contradictions of your own selves. You are vast, you contain multitudes, as Whitman would say. You are the essence of what Dada wishes to bring to the world—a diversion from the mundane, a break with the status quo, an intrusion of the ridiculous and impossible into everyday life.”  
“Then why do they keep attacking us?”  
“Every great artist has the sense of provocation”  
With that the man stood up, turned and walked away, just as Jane and Cliff came in.  
“Who was that?” Jane asked.  
“Arthur Cravan”  
“A friend of yours?” asked Cliff.  
“Ask me next time we run into the Brotherhood of Dada.”  
“If there is a next time” said Jane.  
“Let’s all hope there isn’t” added Cliff. Rebis paused for a moment.  
“I have a feeling they are closer than we know. But they aren’t here now. Let’s have our coffee, shall we?”


End file.
